


the roses in bones

by that_one_urchin



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Flowers, Pining, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_urchin/pseuds/that_one_urchin
Summary: A quick glance confirms that she’s bare beneath the material and Hope’s treacherous eyes soak up the glimpse of naked skin. Hope’s own skin heats as rapidly as one could strike a match, a pang of longing throbbing throughout her body. She itches to set her hands on Josie, to catch the sweet taste of pillowy lips on her tongue. She wants to be—Gentle.Gentle, Hope has to remind herself, so as to not crush another delicate, beautiful thing beneath her fingers.-While the Beast of Mikaelson Manor rampages through Mystic Falls, Josie Saltzman runs a small flower shop and Hope Mikaelson fights to control her desires.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 102
Kudos: 341





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, I have none  
> For never leaving well enough alone  
> But it would've been fun  
> If you would've been the one
> 
> — Taylor Swift

On the anniversary of her parent’s death, Hope Mikaelson walks into a flower shop, in search of something to help her pay her respects.

The shop is overcrowded with plants, all of them varying in size, color, and price, but Hope does not linger to make her decision. Quite selfishly, her attention darts to the front of the store, where a beautiful brunette girl stands in patchy overalls.

Hope slows her step to a stroll, so as to not seem too eager, but excitement courses through her veins regardless.

“Hi, Hope.” Josie greets, her lips forming around the lone syllable of Hope’s name in a respectful, polite tone. Hope tries to ignore the large part of herself that yearns so desperately to hear it on repeat. “Something for your parents?”

Her lips are glossy today, wet in an enticing way that distracts Hope for a split second.

“Yes, please.” Hope manages. Her voice comes out much more strangled than she’d like.

“On it.” Josie salutes her, the action only made more endearing by the cute pair of overalls she has on. The brunette circles the counter to get out from behind it, already on a mission to find the right item for Hope.

Hope trails after her.

A quick glance confirms that she’s bare beneath the material and Hope’s treacherous eyes soak up the glimpse of naked skin. Hope’s own skin heats as rapidly as one could strike a match, a pang of longing throbbing throughout her body. She itches to set her hands on Josie, to catch the sweet taste of pillowy lips on her tongue. She wants to be—

_Gentle._

Gentle, Hope has to remind herself, so as to not crush another delicate, beautiful thing beneath her fingers.

Josie stops in front of a bright red assortment of flowers. Roses. Hayley’s favorite.

“I picked these yesterday, so they should keep for a while.” She drags a single finger over one of the petals carefully, as if it were still a living thing. “Are they alright?”

“They’re perfect, thank you.”

Hope’s tongue begs her to say something else, something more, but she is too afraid to go past small talk.

Josie smiles, pleased by the praise. Hope’s chest brightens at the pretty sight of her. She can’t help but take the chance to compliment her whenever she can, Hope knows Josie takes great pride in her work. It’s one of the many things she admires about her, one of the many things she- _no_. Hope swallows, her mouth suddenly and unmistakably dry.

She doesn't even deserve to think of the word.

_Love_.

What a silly thing for Hope’s mind to conjure up, when her bones still ache with the memory that consumes her, a nightmare that lives in the day.

_Wet dirt beneath slick paws, the subtle crunch of leaves molded into the thud of rapid footsteps, a slice of wind falling like a whip across fur, trees that tower above the land, a stretch of bare flesh caught in her jaw._

Hope snaps out of her thoughts abruptly, only now realizing that Josie has begun to ramble.

“The flowers really are the most beautiful at this time of year. So many of them are blooming, I have trouble keeping myself from them.” Josie nibbles her bottom lip, quite adorably, wetting it only slightly. “Of course, I don’t go out into the forest at night. I don’t believe in the Beast of the Manor or anything, like the rest of the town, but it’s good to stay safe.”

It’s clear Josie purposefully left out one key word in her sentence: the Beast of _Mikaelson_ Manor.

Hope’s stomach clenches despite Josie’s careful wording. Dread clings to her insides like smoke and she belatedly realizes that she is terrified for some unknown reason, every inch of her mind stripped raw by fear.

_A stretch of bare flesh caught in her jaw, a stretch of bare flesh caught in her jaw, a stretch of bare flesh caught in her—_

“The forest?” Hope croaks, her throat bobbing tellingly. “N-no, you can’t. It’s dangerous.”

Josie tilts her head and arches a single, curious eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you believe the stories.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I _don’t_.” Hope insists, noticing far too late that she has stepped into Josie’s personal space. It takes her a second to force herself back, but the damage is already done. The scent of cinnamon is now firmly lodged in her nose, making it that much harder to speak. “I… I only worry for your safety.”

She’s said too much.

Josie is looking at her now, _really_ looking at her, and the deep brown of her gaze is haunting on Hope’s skin.

“Can I pay for these?” Hope points to the roses she had nearly forgotten, desperate to disappear.

“Sure.” Josie collects them into a bundle for her easily.

The transition probably passes quickly, but Hope feels as if it steals years from her life. Her hands never fail to stop shaking as she counts out her money, and she knows Josie must notice the way they tremble, but neither girls speak of it.

She leaves without a goodbye.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you  
> And I always will,  
> I wish I was worth  
> What I know you deserve  
> — Seafret

Mikaelson Manor stands on a lone hill, looking every bit the dreadful place children’s stories make it out to be.

To Hope, it is a home, a place to eat and sleep, but she will not deny for a second that it holds its fair share of ghosts. She knows them better than anyone. She often hears her mother’s voice from beyond the grave, calling her in for supper, or the heavy thud of her father’s footsteps stalking into the office. Hope never sees these ghosts, never gets even a glimpse to truly confirm whether or not they are real, but she holds onto her belief.

She figures a ghost story is better than the cold reality of being alone.

Hope marches out into the backyard in only a pair of her father’s slacks and a thin button-up shirt, allowing the chill to accompany her on the walk to their graves.

(She buried them herself, years ago, in her teen years. Her parents were kind, but distant people, who had very few friends in the town and very few relatives who lived close enough to visit.)

In her hands, she carries the bundle of roses.

Hope splits the flowers evenly, never able to give one parent more or less than the other, and lays them down at the base of their headstones. She reads the names carved in stone multiple times, amazed by how it fails to fully sink in that they’re gone, even years after.

**Klaus Mikaelson**   
**1937-1973**

**Hayley Mikaelson**   
**1935-1973**

Every year Hope does this, and every year there are only a few simple, solemn words to say.

“I miss you.” She whispers, in a voice light as the breeze and heavy as a rock, at the same time. “I love you.”

For a few more seconds, Hope lingers, allowing silent tears to roll down her face, until she sniffs, wipes her cheek, and begins the journey back to her vehicle. She drives through narrow streets until buildings surround her again, and decides to mourn for the rest of the day in the local bar.

Plenty of people are already well on their way to drowning their sorrows. The tangy scent of men and alcohol sways heavily in the air, causing her to wrinkle her nose.

The harsh collection of smells attack Hope’s nose, but the strongest of all is the one beside her.

“Listen here!”

Alaric Saltzman, the town’s resident drunk and scorned hunter, climbs up on the bar while his daughter (the blonde one) attempts to console him. Her attempts are futile and he manages to crawl completely on top of the counter, making a mess of himself and the space around him.

Hope almost feels bad. Things clearly haven’t been the same for that man since the death of his wife, and she knows better than anyone how much loss can weigh on a person.

“I—“ Alaric burps drunkenly, causing his daughter to lower her eyes in shame. “I am going to kill the beast!”

No one bats an eye.

It’s common in this town for the men to get drunk and riled up, then form a messy plan to ambush the Beast of Mikaelson Manor.

Of course, these attempts are failures for two reasons. Inebriated men are clearly not the best hunters and the identity of the beast is unknown.

In fact, the beast sits amongst them right now.

“I will slay the beast.” Alaric continues to boast, walking right past the creature herself. “I will gut it where it stands and bring back its head, along with my honor.”

“What honor?” One of the other men calls out, and Alaric’s confidence visibly dissipates as a mocking laugh runs through the bar.

“You’ll all see!”

Hope smirks subtly, sipping her beer in silence.

What would happen if they all knew? Hope wonders.

Would they show mercy, in the face of a killer?

Would they recognize her as a girl, as well as an animal, and allow her to run free?

Hope tosses back the rest of her beer, feeling the bitter liquid sting down her throat the same way a chill manages to work its way up her spine. She shivers, despite not being cold. If anyone were to catch her in her beastly state, they would attack her instantly, but it is much more probable that she would tear them limb from limb before they even got the chance to approach her.

That’s all she knows how to do. Ruin. Destroy. _Kill_. She is what they say she is - a beast.

The front door creaks open, prompting Lizzie to look over her shoulder. The blonde sighs in relief at who she sees, while Hope catches an achingly familiar scent and curls in on herself further.

“Josie!” Lizzie ushers the brunette closer. “Help me with dad.”

Hope tries to hide as best she can, but her efforts are futile.

Their eyes meet for a single, lasting second, and in that time Hope is retaught what torture means.

She yearns to reach out and touch Josie, to feel happiness and love at the hands of the brunette, but when all Hope’s fingers can do is destroy, it’s best to not touch at all.

It’s a curse on her heart.

And, later, when Hope tries to tell the difference between the pain she felt at the graves and the pain she felt under Josie’s gaze, she will not be able to.

Perhaps the quiet agony that comes with death is twins with the one that accompanies love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love's gonna get you killed  
> But pride's gonna be the death of you
> 
> — Kendrick Lamar

It’s a full moon.

Against his better judgment, against _everyone’s_ better judgement, Alaric Saltzman walks through the forest with a single thing on his mind:

Redemption.

While he walks and sees trees in the forefront of his vision, his thoughts tell a different story: his daughters tending to him after another long night spent in the bar, the town’s mocking laughter, the familiar mix of shame when stumbling home. _Jo_. Alaric sees her ghost everywhere. Even in death she keeps his attention, follows after him almost as well as his own shadow, and Alaric just—

He just _misses_ her. Even when he thinks that he sees her he knows she’s not actually there.

It’s like he’s lost a limb. It’s his wife. Alaric wasn’t built to be without her. He makes a terrible huntsman and an even worse father.

Jo was beautiful, bright, safe. _Safe_.

Alaric grunts and hops over a fallen branch. His feet land soundlessly on the ground. He’s a shell of a man, hollow inside, and his footsteps match.

Something howls.

Alaric lifts his head in interest, immediately going to reach for his crossbow. “Is that you?”

A sigh of relief swells in his chest at the firm feel of the weapon in his hands. He isn’t afraid of the beast. He _isn’t_. The Beast of Mikaelson Manor is probably not a beast at all. It’s most likely a wolf, maybe an oversized wolf, but still just a wolf. He isn’t going to let himself be terrorized like the rest of the town, over something as silly as an animal.

“Show yourself.” Alaric eases his way forward, not catching sight of anything yet. “Come on.”

If he can shoot this thing, then all of his problems will die with it. The Beast of Mikaelson Manor has been killing livestock for years now. It’s a plague on the entire town. If Alaric could bring back its head, he would no longer be known as the town drunk, but a hero. Someone his daughters could be proud of. Someone Jo could be proud of.

“Come on! I’m not afraid of you.” Alaric yells. It’s cold and silent. He worries he came out here for nothing.

The howling returns, much closer this time, and rings in his ears like a warning bell.

Alaric follows the sound. It can’t be far from him now. He starts to move a bit faster, eager to find the key to his happiness. The dark sky and thick trees surrounding him make it harder to see, but he continues to stumble forward, feeling almost blind and also almost victorious, even though he hasn’t laid eyes on the beast yet.

_He is not afraid, he is not afraid, he is not afraid._

Alaric walks a little further, pushing through the branches, and then it’s _there_. The Beast of Mikaelson Manor. Waiting for him.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Alaric repeats, rushing to aim his crossbow.

Two piercing golden eyes set on Alaric as soon as he shows himself. All of his muscles seem to slow down in an instant, stiffening until they’re frozen solid with fear. Alaric’s sweaty fingers slip across the crossbow uselessly, failing to get a proper grip. _Fuck_. He lied. He is afraid. He is _fucking_ terrified. The creature standing before him has fierce, wolf-like features, but it is easily twice the size of any wolf.

It snaps its jaw at him, growling lowly.

He looks into its eyes. They’re strangely familiar. He can’t place it, but for a split second they are _blue, blue, blue_ —

And then, it attacks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But there is a light in the dark  
> And I feel its warmth  
> In my hands, in my heart  
> But why can't I hold on?
> 
> — Dean Lewis

Alaric Saltzman is presumed missing.

Hope walks through the halls of Mikaelson Manor like a ghost, pale-faced and troubled. She barely allows herself a wink of sleep. Each of her nights are plagued with nightmares and each day is just the same. An endless cycle of guilt. Hope knows that missing is just another word for dead. Killed. Murdered.

She’s a _murderer_.

How can she ever stroll into town again, knowing that she’s now killed more than their livestock?

How can she face herself in the mirror, day after day, when all her reflection shows is a ruthless predator?

Fuck. How can she look Josie in the eye?

Hope stays inside the Manor until the food supply runs out and her stomach growls constantly with hunger. She treks out of the safety of her home in a thick coat, which she wears like a cloak, and keeps herself tucked under it for the majority of her time in town.

Even just visiting the market is torture. There are missing signs everywhere, some of them written in Josie’s beautiful, loopy handwriting.

It’s torture.

In a way, it’s what she deserves. To be punished. Monster. Killer. Beast. All words that could apply to her now, and Hope wears them like a noose around her neck.

“Hope?”

Hope freezes at the familiar sweet curl of a voice in the distance. She pauses for a brief moment, caught off guard by hearing Josie calling out to her, but stumbles forward in a wild rush once she realizes who it is. No. Fuck. No. Hope can’t bear this right now, can’t bear to meet the warm brown of Josie’s eyes and feel the onslaught of guilt.

She killed the girl’s father, for Christ’s sake.

“Hope!” Josie sounds closer to her now. She has to be running towards Hope right now, which is idiotic. She should be running away. Far, _far_ away.

Why can’t Josie understand? Hope is dangerous. She just needs to get Josie to figure it out without exposing herself entirely, so the brunette can be safe. That’s all Hope wants. She’ll deal with guilt and wrestle her subconscious every night for the rest of her life if it means Josie will stay safe.

“Hope. God, you’re fast.” Josie huffs out a puff of air, breathless, and swipes the baby hairs away from her forehead. Her hair is unruly today, a wild mess of dark locks, all windswept and gorgeous. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Hope’s hands itch to reach out and _touch_. She stubbornly buries them in her pockets.

“Yeah.” Hope flicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth, unable to force out another word.

Josie raises her eyebrows at the dismissive reply.

“Have… have you seen anything?” Josie leans in close enough that Hope can make out the subtle details of her face. Agony. Misery. Grief. “I mean, about my father? I know you do some upkeep in the forest, and—“

“No.”

“Oh.” All traces of hope slip from Josie’s face.

Inside her pockets, Hope’s hands curl into fists. She swallows something awful that tastes like dread and sticks like tar, but she keeps her lips firmly sealed. The last thing she wants to do is give Josie false Hope.

The conversation falls silent.

Josie lingers by regardless, watching Hope with an unreadable expression, and Hope tries not to squirm under the attention.

“Hope, I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve been having a really hard time lately.” Josie wets her lips. Her mouth is full and inviting, a delectable pink color. Hope likes it very much. “And… you have this way of cheering me up. Could we do something together, sometime?”

Tentatively, with no small hint of hesitation, Josie places her hand atop Hope’s arm.

Heat rushes up her spine at the simple touch and yet she can’t fully enjoy it. _Monster. Killer. Beast._

“No.” Hope takes a wide step back, even though it’s agonizing, even though every single fucking nerve in her body aches to feel Josie’s skin. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. You should find someone else.”

“Someone else?” Josie scoffs out a laugh.

“Yes. I’m…” She’s _nothing_. “Busy.”

Josie nods sadly, obviously dejected, and Hope’s heart plummets to her stomach. “Okay. Sorry for bothering you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Put your arms around somebody else  
> And don’t punish yourself, punish yourself  
> The truth is like blood underneath your fingernails  
> You don’t wanna hurt yourself
> 
> — Fink

The town decides to put a search party together for Alaric. Since Hope is well-known for working in the forest, she’s all but forced to contribute. It’s especially hard to refuse when she knows Josie would resent her for not helping, and with Milton Greasley begging her to tag along.

So, on a gloomy afternoon, Hope, Milton, Lizzie, and Josie trek out into the forest with the rest of the town, all in search of a dead man.

“Have you ever seen the beast?” Milton asks, his tone a cross between excitement and fear.

“No.” Hope shines her flashlight at the trees. She isn’t exactly sure what they will find out here. Not the beast, of course, but Hope’s memories of that night are few and far between. Maybe a body? “I chop wood out here sometimes, Milton. I’m not a monster hunter.”

“MG.”

“What?”

“You called me Milton.” He points out, gently. “It’s MG.”

It’s abundantly clear that Hope doesn’t socialize much with the locals. She can’t settle on a word to say to any of them, especially Josie. Her lips and mouth are useless, glued shut by a horrible mix of guilt and anxiety. Hope firmly holds onto her silence for the majority of the journey, only offering a few suggestions of where to go.

Every word she manages to force out churns her stomach. It’s all fake. _Lies. Lies. Lies._

“We should split up.” Lizzie sighs in exasperation, whirling around suddenly, flashlight in hand. She accidentally blindes Josie, who scrunches up her nose at having the light directly in her face. “This is pointless. There’s too much ground. If dad is lurking out here somewhere, we’ll never find him this way.”

Hope naturally gravities towards Josie, standing in front of her protectively. There are other killers in the forest besides her, other predators. She’d die before she let anything attack Josie.

“MG, you’re going with me.” Lizzie loops her arm through MG’s.

Something in Hope’s chest loosens and locks up at the same time. Her wolf is pleased with getting to pair up with Josie, but the more human side of her grows incredibly nervous at the mere idea of being alone with the brunette for too long.

MG and Lizzie fade out into the woods together, closely intertwined, and Hope stands as stiff as a statue next to Josie.

Is she supposed to say something? What do you say to the girl whose father you’ve murdered?

Nothing.

Hope says absolutely _nothing_. She’s worried that if she opens her mouth a confession will follow, so her silence remains as they trudge through the forest together.

In her peripheral vision, she can see that Josie’s nose is tinted pink from the cold and her bottom lip is a deep, raw crimson, probably from biting it worriedly over the last few days. She looks small. Vulnerable. All Hope wants is to comfort her, but a voice in her head warns her that if she gets too close Josie will be able to spot the blood on her hands.

A rustling sound comes from somewhere in front of them. It’s too dark to see. Hope hears Josie’s heartbeat speed up. It’s probably just an animal, no danger to either of them, but it sounds loud enough that Josie jumps closer to her, obviously frightened.

Hope finds herself pressed against a nearby tree by Josie in the blink of an eye.

She exhales sharply in surprise, and has to flare her nostrils to keep Josie’s scent out of her nose.

That _barely_ works.

In a moment of weakness, Hope inhales deeply. Flowers. Cinnamon. The tiniest bit of sweat. It’s intoxicating. Josie smells so fucking perfect, and Hope wonders if she would taste like that, too. If she were to try and steal a kiss, would Josie kiss back? Gently? _Roughly_? Would she let her lips skim across Hope’s own with care or pull at Hope desperately? Would she let Hope _touch_ —

No. No. Hope needs to _stop_. She needs to stop.

“What are you doing?” Hope’s voice comes out unnaturally rough from the close proximity. She clears her throat in vain, a surge of heat jolting through her body.

Her fingers scrape against the bark behind her, nearly splintering the wood.

“Protecting you.”

How ironic.

“I thought you didn’t believe in the beast.” Hope’s mouth quirks up into a smirk, despite herself.

“Things have changed since…” Josie trails off, a slight crack in her voice. _Things have changed since Hope killed Alaric._ “All of this.”

Immediately, Hope’s smirk drops.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, and only realizes that she has started stroking Josie’s back once she feels Josie shiver.

Josie shakes her head. “It’s not your fault.”

_It is_. It is and Hope can’t take it. Josie will never forgive her for this. She will never forgive herself for this. This must be what hell is. Never knowing peace.

They stare at each other for a long, torturous moment. That animal must be gone by now, but Josie is still holding onto her.

“About earlier.” Josie’s words blow warm puffs of air across Hope’s face. Hope must be crazy. She is still thinking of kissing Josie. “When I asked if we could go out, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just like you. _A lot_.”

Oh? Hope’s chest swells with warmth.

Josie clears her throat, cheeks tinting pink. “But, I understand you don’t want me, at least not the way I want you.”

She can’t take this.

“I _do_ want you.” Hope blurts, worrying it might be the worst decision in the world and feeling unable to stop herself anyways. “I want you so much. It’s just, I can’t—“

“HOPE? JOSIE?” Lizzie shines her flashlight at them, from a distance. “IS THAT YOU?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't wanna be forward, I don't wanna cut corners  
> Savor this with everything I have inside of me
> 
> — Clairo

Josie takes a step back, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “So, you like me?”

Does Hope like Josie? Yes. She really, _really_ likes Josie. So much. Hope has liked her for _years_ now.

“Yes.”

Josie’s eyes dance with color, and for once that’s a beautiful thing. Her eyes are a solid brown, not Hope’s blue or occasional gold. God. Josie is so pretty. Hope gets so distracted looking at her that she nearly forgets that they are still in the forest, with MG and Lizzie charging towards them.

“Did you two find the beast?!” One of them yells in a high, nasally tone. Must be Lizzie.

“No!” Josie calls back, and when she turns her head Hope can see the faintest blush blooming across her cheeks. Cute. In a more hushed tone, Josie whispers to Hope, “Can you meet at the flower shop tomorrow after work?”

Hope nods once.

“Okay.”

Hope tries to appear calm and collected, but her voice shakes around the single word and the rest of her isn’t doing much better. A shiver crawls up her spine, her fingers tremble, and her legs turn to pins and needles. She’s going to be alone with Josie tomorrow.

Smart, wonderful, _fatherless_ Josie. Fuck. Is this a mistake? No. It can’t be, when it feels this good.

“We didn’t find anything either.” MG informs them as soon as they’re within speaking distance. Both the twins' faces fall. Hope’s stomach clenches with familiar guilt, while MG obviously scrambles to find something else to say. “I found a rock.”

Hope barely bites back a chuckle. “A rock?”

“A _cool_ rock.” He clarifies.

Hope feels her lips tilt up in a tiny smile. It is sort of funny. She tries to contain it, until she notices that Josie is doing the same. Their eyes meet for just a second, with all the heat of a wildfire, and when Hope finally glances away she finds herself oddly breathless.

“We should head back.” She suggests, her voice still slightly breathy. Shit. “It’s getting pretty dark.”

Lizzie scoffs. “Afraid of the beast, Mikaelson?”

No. Not exactly.

Hope’s cheeks flush, but not for the reason they might think. That wording was a little too close. _Afraid of the beast, Mikaelson?_ The Beast of Mikaelson Manor. Yes. Definitely too close.

It would be so easy for someone to piece it all together, to notice the rosy color on Hope’s skin and the flash of panic in her eyes.

“Stop it.” Josie interrupts. She swats at Lizzie’s stomach and sends Hope an apologetic look that instantly makes Hope’s knees feel weak. Damn it. How much more pathetic can she get? “Leave Hope alone. She’s right, it’s dark. We should go.”

Josie glances pointedly at the woods surrounding them. The night has consumed the forest to the point that they can barely see the trees or the dirt underneath their feet. Everyone nods tensely and agrees with Josie.

“Okay. Let’s head in.”

Hope can tell that they’re afraid, but the sounds of the woods don’t startle Hope in the slightest. Why should they? She’s the biggest predator out here, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is a bit shorter than usual, the next chapter will be longer/more interesting


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She hits like ecstasy  
> Comes up and bangs the sense out of me  
> It's wrong, but surely worse to leave
> 
> — The Wombats

The next day, when Hope enters the flower shop, it’s empty inside. A few of the lights are flicked off and some of the more expensive flowers are put away. Hope has never seen it look this way. She usually visits in the daytime, when Josie’s store is all bright colors and even brighter smiles. Now, it’s dim. Intimate.

Hope swallows hard. “Josie?”

Silence.

Hope’s skin prickles with nerves as she wanders farther into the store in search of Josie. She can barely smell the other girl, due to the surrounding scent of flowers, but Josie’s scent is buried there, underneath it all. Hope inhales deeply once more to confirm that Josie is actually in the building.

She is.

Hope should find her in a more normal, less odd way. What would Josie think if she saw Hope out here, trying to catch a scent like a common dog?

“Jo?” Hope calls again, resting her palms against the counter and trying to peer into the back room.

At the sound of her name, Josie pokes her head out from the doorway. Her hair is down, framing her face in soft ringlets. The strands fall far past Josie’s shoulders, which are bare and on display.

“Hope.” Josie smiles, but there’s a bit of a flush to her cheeks and a rush in her heartbeat. Wait. Is Josie… naked? Hope can’t see anything below her shoulders from this angle, but her mind fills in the image easily enough. “Give me a second to change.”

“O-Okay.” Hope’s voice wavers dangerously. She shuts her eyes tightly, seeing a dim flash of gold behind her eyelids.

Her head immediately swarms with filthy images, the thought of actually seeing Josie naked almost too much to bear. She can barely keep her heart rate under control. It pounds rapidly beneath her skin, offering no remorse. Hope tries to think of kind, innocent things, but thoughts of bared skin and a perfect mouth linger around the edges of her mind.

She wasn’t lying in the woods, earlier. She wants Josie _so bad_. Hope can feel her fingers aching at just the thought of touching Josie. _Tasting_ Josie.

Fuck.

_Fucking_ fuck.

Hope runs a shaky hand through her hair, hoping that doesn’t ruin it too much. She tried to tame her curls earlier, but it’s mostly a futile effort. Still, she wants to look good for Josie.

“You can come back here.” Josie lets her know and Hope raises her eyebrows.

What are they going to do in the back of Josie’s store?

Hope does as she is told and steps around the counter. The back room is a lot bigger than she initially thought it would be, with enough space for a medium-sized table, a fridge, and a stove. Hope would call it a kitchen if it weren’t for the cot shoved against the wall, which is made up with fluffy pillows and a large, pink blanket.

“Do you sleep here?” Hope asks, not thinking. The blanket smells like Josie.

“Sometimes.” Josie shrugs her shoulders, which are still bare, but she is now wearing a pretty, white dress. It hugs her body tightly, accentuating every curve. Hope has trouble looking away. “Not often, though. Only when my dad’s drinking got to be too much.”

Hmm. Hope listens to the way Josie’s voice turns slightly embarrassed. She knows that Lizzie was mortified by Alaric being the town drunk, but was Josie?

Did Alaric humiliate her, too? Maybe he deserved to die.

No. What is Hope thinking? Of course he didn’t. She blinks rapidly, wondering where the hell that thought came from.

Hope clears her throat. “You look pretty.”

Pretty is an understatement.

“Thank you.” Josie smiles something soft. “I’m really glad you came. I feel like I don’t see much of you these days.”

How could Hope ever stay away? Even now, it takes every bit of her self control not to pull Josie closer to her and press their bodies together. All it would take is one swift move, and Josie would be in her arms.

“Sorry.” Hope murmurs, eyeing the table and the cot. She decides to sit at the table. “I guess I’ve been a little spooked about…”

About what? Murdering someone?

“...the beast.” That’s accurate enough.

Luckily, Josie nods and joins her at the table. Her shoes accidentally bump against Hope’s ankles as she sits. Hope inhales sharply, overwhelmed by even the smallest bits of contact.

“I understand that.” Josie says kindly. “You work in the forest a lot. It’s scary out there.”

“Yeah.” Hope agrees. She drums her fingers on the table to distract herself. It’s better this way. If she pretends to be afraid, no one will suspect her.

It’s better.

Yet, a tiny voice in her head disagrees. The voice speaks through a quiet growl, saying words that will never leave Hope’s lips but swirl through her head on repeat. She should tell everyone what she is. She shouldn’t pretend to need to cower in the corner when she is the biggest, most deadly predator out there. She doesn’t need to hide from anything in that forest. _Ever_. And everyone needs to know. _Josie_ needs to know—

Hope clamps her mouth shut, realizing that she had gotten lost in her thoughts. There’s a part of her that hates appearing weak in front of Josie, but it’s necessary. Why can’t this just be easy?

Why does she have to be at war with this part of herself that behaves like… like an animal.

“Can I have a glass of water, please?” Hope asks and takes the chance to wipe the sweat off of her palms when Josie stands to comply.

Not a minute later, there is a loud crash followed by a panicked squeak from Josie, who dropped a glass. Tiny shards litter the floor around Josie’s feet, but she looks to be unharmed.

“Oops.” Josie pouts.

“It’s okay.” Hope stands, her heart squeezing with fondness. “I’ll clean it up.”

“You don’t have to do that—“

“I want to.” She doesn’t want Josie to cut herself on the glass. Josie is more than capable of doing it on her own, but Hope likes to protect her from even the smallest things.

“I can do it.” Josie insists, something defiant and hot showing in her eyes that Hope adores.

“Okay.” Hope raises her hands in surrender, but that flash of something lingers and burns low in her abdomen. “Don’t cut yourself, klutz.”

Josie rolls her eyes playfully and moves to swat Hope’s arm, but Hope grabs her wrist before she can do so. Hope doesn’t know what she’s doing. She doesn’t know what she’s thinking. That’s it.

She isn’t thinking.

Hope isn’t thinking at all, when she traps Josie’s hand against the counter, and she certainly isn’t thinking a couple seconds later, when she steps closer and pins the other one.

“Hope?” Josie whispers, uncertain.

Why are they in this position? Hope barely knows how she got the idea to touch Josie like this, but she finds it hard to move away.

“Hmm?” Hope shifts her head to the side, so her mouth hovers an inch above Josie’s throat. She inhales deeply, unable to stop herself. The scent hits her nose like a drug, a pure form of ecstasy pumping through her veins. Josie’s pulse flutters enticingly, the quick beat of it filling Hope’s ears.

A groan works its way past her lips, and she has the lingering thought that Josie is meant to be pressed against her.

_Claim her. Bite her. Do it. She’s ours. Ours. Ours. Ours._

Wait.

What is she doing? _Oh no._ How is she supposed to explain why she’s acting so… so _creepy_. Hope steps back, worried that she has ruined this, but Josie fists a hand in the back of her shirt to keep her close.

“Say it again.” Josie requests, breathless, hands dancing along the nape of Hope’s neck. Hope’s eyes clench shut at the action.

_Claim her,_ the voice pipes up again, in the same familiar growl, _claim her, she’s yours._

“Say what again?”

“That you _want_ me.” Josie leans closer, pleading. Begging. “I want to hear it—“

“I want you.”

Hope barely gets the last word out before Josie’s lips are on hers, full and warm and soft. _So soft_.

Josie kisses her hard and Hope reciprocates with the same intensity. She leaves no space between them, so she can feel every inch of Josie’s body against her own. Josie’s skin is hot in her hands, and when Hope tilts her head to deepen the kiss, Josie responds with an encouraging moan that has Hope nearly shaking with want.

It’s overwhelming. Josie tastes heavenly and she sounds even better, and Hope can’t stand to be apart from her.

Someone outside the store pounds on the glass.

Hope is perfectly fine with ignoring them. Nothing else matters right now. She frowns as Josie pulls away to answer and decides to kiss Josie’s neck instead, keeping her firmly in place. Hope nips at the smooth underside of Josie’s jaw, careful not to bite down too hard. It’s okay. She’s _fine_. She can control herself. She won’t bite her.

Josie’s throat bobs enticingly as she emits a little, desperate whine at Hope’s actions, but, _no_. Hope won’t bite her. She _won’t_ —

“Josie? I know you’re in there somewhere!” The boy calls. MG. Hope is going to kill him. “They… they found your dad’s body.”


End file.
